


Out of a Thousand Letters, This is the One.

by GalacticPoets



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman, cmbyn
Genre: Coming In Pants, Love Letters, M/M, Masturbation, Memories, Orgasm, Writing, reliving memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 14:58:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15075617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalacticPoets/pseuds/GalacticPoets
Summary: Elio has written countless letters to Oliver, but he's never sent them... until now.





	1. Dear Oliver.

_Oliver,  
I've been thinking this over and over, but there's no words that will ever explain how I feel about you. That night, our first night, was insatiable. I still remember it. Even now as I lay here on my bed, the one we shared, our bed. The smell in the air, marijuana, sweat and something I could never place until you were pressed against me, it was you, Oliver. It was all you. _

_The moonlight streaming through the open French windows gave us just the right amount of lighting to explore each others flesh. I caught you just staring at me a few times and it made me nervous, excited and aroused at the same time. I was already in love with you then, but I fell deeper, Oliver. I fell deeper that very night._

_When your lips caressed my skin, it felt as if every single nerve in my body was on fire, I didn't want it to stop. For the first time in my entire life, I felt like I mattered. I felt like someone finally loved me and everything about me. You made me feel that way, Oliver, and I'll never forget it._

_As I write this, I can feel myself getting hard. Reliving our precious moments together always makes me hard. I've written so many letters to you that I dare not send because I've been so hard and grinding against the mattress, pretending its your hand, your thigh, your body, that my handwriting has become illegible. But I'm trying to keep it neat right now. I'm trying not to move so much and spill my load too quickly._

_I'm wearing your shirt. It's still as billowy as it was the day you arrived here, except it's got a couple of holes in it now. I fell off my bicycle on one of my trips up to the Berm. I went there to read, but of course you know that. I didn't read much, though, because you were on the forefront of my mind, Oliver. I laid down in the grass, the breeze lifted your shirt occasionally, it was like your lips were kissing my chest again. I got hard within minutes. No surprise, right? So I slipped my hand into my trunks. I tried to imagine it was your hand touching me, your thumb caressing the scar from my circumcision, your fingers squeezing me in all the right ways. Fuck, Oliver, I came so hard, I felt my seed splash onto my chest, so I had to wash our billowy shirt before Mafalda could see what has become of me._

_I apologise for my handwriting now, Oliver. I'm trying my very best to keep it neat for you, but I'm aching for release. I wish you were here. I wish I could see your chest glistening with the remnants of our love making again, you have no idea what that did to me. Actually, you probably do have an idea, we made love again shortly after._

_I'm not going to last, Oliver. I can feel that warmth in my belly, I can feel myself throbbing, and it's all for you. Fuck, I'm going to come..._

 

Elio moans his own name, just like he did when Oliver requested he do so. His hands grip the sheets, his forehead pressing into the delicate paper he'd been writing on and he feels the warm, sticky evidence pool in the space between his trunks and his leaking cock. After a few minutes, he opens his eyes, picks up his pen and signs his name in perfect cursive at the end of his letter. He knew that this would be the one he mails in the morning.


	2. Dear Elio.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's reply, of course.

_Elio,  
I have to admit, I was surprised when a letter from Italy landed on my doormat. I was starting to think you'd never write to me. You have every reason not too, of course. But I'm ever so glad you did, Elio. I miss you._

_I swear I can smell you on this letter. Your sweat, the shampoo you use... your come. And whenever that scent hits my nostrils, whether it's real or something I've conjured up in my mind, I become outrageously hard. Just as I am now. And let me tell you, writing while one of my hands is caressing my shaft is slightly difficult._

_Elio, I'm glad you relive that night, because I do too. At night when I'm alone are when my thoughts run wild. You creep into my brain, you're just so infectious. So addicting. I close my eyes and I can see you on top of me, I feel your thighs squeezing mine, your obvious arousal rubbing so deliciously against mine._

_Do you remember Rome? Us. Alone. In one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. But the most beautiful place, Elio, is right between your perfect legs. Those legs... god, the way they fit over my shoulders, or around my waist when we make love, it's an incredible feeling, darling. I know when I'm making you feel good, too, because your thighs squeeze me a little tighter, and you make these little noises of desperation. Fuck, just thinking about that now is making me throb._

_I want to visit you again, Elio. But I want it to just be us. In our place. When, or even if you find the time, we should meet again in Rome. The same hotel. The same village. The same two lovers falling in love again. The very same place where you can call me by your name and I'll call you by mine. That's our expression of love and commitment. Our very own way of telling each other how much we love each other. God, how I want to hear your lips part and you breathe your name against my skin._

_There's that smell again... yes, I have your letter right by me as I reply with my own. I read it often, you know. And the smell, it radiates from the paper, almost like you came on it. Did you, Elio? Did you come on the letter you sent me? If you didn't... maybe this will inspire you to do it on the next one..._

_My love, I just had to lower my pen, close my eyes and whisper my name, because it became too much. My fingers are a mess. How I wish you were here, licking them clean in that beautifully dirty way you did when we were together. I can almost feel your tongue dipping between my fingers, sucking on the tips, strings of saliva and come connecting my digits to your perfect rosy lips._

_Until we meet again, Elio._

_Oliver._

 

Oliver leans back in his desk chair, his hand resting on his thigh still dripping with semen. He closes his eyes again and a smile spreads across his lips and he hums. He hoped this was now their thing. Their way of keeping in touch. Of staying in love despite the distance. He also hoped a trip to Rome would be on the cards.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not going to aplogise for the amount of times I wrote Oliver's name. Elio would write it that many times. Can't prove me wrong, either ;) (also comments and feedback makes me happy)


End file.
